


Outtakes (2)

by NotASpaceAlien



Series: Your Own Side [8]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-16 15:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: More outtakes from Your Own Side (meant to be read after Into the Unknown)





	1. Untitled Epilogue for “Into the Unknown”

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at https://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/188070200765/your-own-side-outtake-13-untitled-epilogue
> 
> Neatly bookends the last story paired with the Prologue, and maybe answers a question raised in chapter 17 (”Catch and Release”). Not sure where i was really going to take this…anyway

“This is humiliating.”

THEN MAYBE IT WILL TEACH YOU SOME HUMILITY.

Satan plucked out one of his feathers, then looked to Time for confirmation that he’d done enough.

Time shook his head. Mykas, leaning casually in a chair nearby, extended one wing and made a pulling motion.

Satan groaned and reached into his wings, taking a fistful of feathers and tearing them out.

THAT’S PLENTY, said Time.

“No one has ever had the audacity to take feathers from me, you know. If anyone had ever tried, I would’ve had them flayed alive.”

_Tick tick tick_ went the beat of Time’s heart, a statement in and of itself, an ellipsis that hung in the air that said _So?_

“Maybe you don’t understand how hard this is for me,” said Satan. “I deserve some credit.”

YOU DESERVE NOTHING, said Time. BECAUSE YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE LET YOURSELF BECOME LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE. A MURDERER DOES NOT GET CREDIT FOR MURDERING ONLY ONE PERSON INSTEAD OF A DOZEN.

Satan bit his lip.

“Maybe now you have some inkling of how you’ve made everyone else feel,” said Mykas. He let the chair drop back onto all fours and slung himself over the backrest. “This new order doesn’t tolerate your old behaviour, not one drop of it. You’ve got a lot of work to do if you’re serious about this, so you might as well start getting over yourself now.”

Satan looked extremely sour. People who’ve never had to face reality often do when confronted by it.

Time crossed his arms.

“Fine,” said Satan. “Only for you, Time. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Only because it’s you asking.”

Satan put the feathers into the wooden box in front of him, which was already mostly full with a mishmash of small bags and jars with powders and liquids of various kinds.

“That’s everything” said Satan. “According to Lyra’s list, anyway.”

“Except the note,” said Mykas. “We all talked about it and agreed there had to be a note, too.”

Satan hissed, and a tongue of flame licking from his mouth. “Surely I don’t have to go that far.”

“Uriel did stuff that was a lot harder,” said Mykas. “And everyone still hated her, and she still got over it, because it was the only way everyone could live together peacefully.”

Satan put his hands over his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

He materlaised a piece of parchment and a quill and began scratching out,

_To my minion of darkness, the serpent of Eden_

“Wrong,” said Mykas. He snatched the parchment and tore it in half. “Start again.”

Grudgingly, Satan took out another parchment.

_To the serpent of Eden: Though I find it ridiculous to address you with—_

“Wrong,” said Mykas, tearing the paper out from under Satan’s quill, leaving a huge streak on it.

“I do not remember you being this much of an asshole in Heaven,” said Satan.

“Six-thousand years and a Fall can change someone a lot,” said Mykas. He set a fresh parchment down and tapped it, then growled, “Get it right. You know how to do it. Stop pissing around.”

Satan tapped the quill nib. _To…_

“Clinging to pride only hurts yourself.”

_To Crowley,_

_Contained within this box are all the ingredients you need to perform a summoning and binding spell on me_.

He looked up at Mykas, who nodded at him to keep going.

_This is to represent a transfer of power. You no longer have reason to be afraid of me. Please take very good care of it and don’t lose it. _

The nib broke on the page. Tears had started to roll down Satan’s cheeks. “It’s so fucking _hard._”

NOBODY SAID IT WOULD BE EASY.

“What if he actually uses it?”

“Then you’d better make sure he’s happy with you,” said Mykas.

“He’s not. He hates me.”

“Because you have hurt him in indescribable ways.”

Satan balled his fists up and hid his face in them.

SIGN IT, said Time.

Satan did so, then folded it up, stuck it in the box, and latched it shut.

“Perfect,” said Mykas, picking the box up. “See, what wasn’t so bad. I’ll go deliver it. You two behave yourselves.”

He trotted out, leaving them alone. Satan looked Time in his clock eyes.

I HAVE MANY QUESTIONS FOR YOU, said Time.

“I imagine you would,” said Satan, sighing.

THOSE TWO CHILDREN.

“Yes I thought it would be about that.”

THEY’RE—

“You’re their other parent, yes.”

A chime rang out from within time, like a fluttered heartbeat. YOU FIGURED OUT ANGELIC REPRODUCTION?

“Yes.” He smirked. “There’s a reason they call you Father Time, you know.”

AND THIS WHOLE TIME WE’VE BEEN…COMPATIBLE?

“It doesn’t work the same way it does in humans, you don’t need…complimentary biology. For angel and demon breeding, it’s more about combining auras. You and I created a sort of….hybrid vigor in our spawn. I was the only Foundation angel to fall, so I really have no idea if anyone else could do it.”

HOW DID YOU FIGURE THIS OUT?

Satan scratched his chin. “How do you think? By watching Him.”


	2. The Death of Adam Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr at https://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/188070464990/your-own-side-outtake-14-the-death-of-adam

Adam Young was dying.

And he _still_ insisted on doing things the human way. Even to the end, he refused to try and regain his antichrist powers, he refused to let any of his supernatural friends restore his health and vigor. Without fail he diverted them to helping Dog, who was in his prime despite being 81 years old (that’s 567 in dog years, mind you!) due to the attention lavished on him. But not Adam Young, no, not _him_, the most human human to ever human, craving the human experience down to his very bones, his very old, very brittle bones.

It started like most elderly human deaths, at the ripe old age of 92, with a fall that broke some integral bone, landing him in the hospital where he developed complications that necessitated a lot of tubes and wires and rhythmic machines, nurses checking in on him regularly and suggestions of hospice care.

The people coming to visit him often muttered about how young he was, which seemed like an odd thing to say, but everyone deals with loss in their own ways.

When they disconnected the life support, he was surrounded by loved ones, most of whom looked quite stoic and begrudgingly restrained themselves from various supernatural interventions, against their better judgement following his wishes.

Adam Young took his last shuddering breath and closed his eyes.

Then, he opened them, seeing a bright white light. No, two, two pinpricks, looking at him. And they disappeared, then reappeared like a slow, languid blink.

“Oh, bugger,” said Adam. “I’ve finally died.”

IT TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, Death said. I’VE BEEN WAITING IN THE CAFETERIA FOR FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Adam flexed his shoulder. “I feel…good. Is being dead supposed to feel this good? Did I just forget what it felt like not to have a bad hip?”

YOU ARE FREED FROM YOUR MORTAL FORM, said Death. YOU NO LONGER FEEL ITS PAIN.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Adam. “Did they have anything good in the cafeteria?”

THE PIZZA IS SURPRISINGLY GOOD.

“I haven’t been able to eat pizza since I started getting heartburn. Can we take a stop on over there? Before going on to, er…”

He looked at Death awkwardly. He suddenly felt a little foolish.

WHERE INDEED, said Death. YOU PRESENT AN INTERESTING DILEMMA. HOWEVER, I’VE NARROWED THE CHOICES DOWN TO HEAVEN OR HELL.

“Oh,” said Adam. “I mean, I guess.”

I OUGHT TO CONGRATULATE YOU. YOU ARE THE FIRST ONE TO EVER BE DISCORPORATED DUE TO OLD AGE. HAD I NOT KNOWN YOU DID IT ON PURPOSE, I WOULD HAVE CHALKED IT UP TO NEGLIGENCE.

“Yeah, I g….Wait, did you say…_discorporated?_”

YES, said Death, leaning his scythe against the wall. BECAUSE DESPITE YOUR INSISTENCE, YOU CANNOT DENY YOUR HERITAGE. I SUPPOSE YOU OUGHT TO GO WHEREVER YOUR CLOSEST RELATIVE WOULD GO WHEN DISCORPORATED, WHICH WOULD BE HELL.

“Wait,” said Adam Young, gawking. “Deny my heritage? How am I…not human? I mean, I _guess _I am Satan’s son, but…”

I KNOW OF NO HUMANS WHO HAVE WINGS.

“Wings?!” said Adam, standing up ramrod straight, and in the process involuntarily flexing muscles he had never used before. This elicited an unexpected feathery _whoosh._

“_Whaaaaaat?!”_

***************************

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Noah let out a deep breath. “Damn. Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” said Beth.

“I should have gone up to see him one more time,” said Noah, pacing the length of the throne room. “Dammit. I knew he wasn’t doing well, but…”

“What now?” said Maltha. “We could start scouring Heaven and Hell for his soul, but if he has the same attitude in death that he has in life, he won’t accept the same help from us that Beth does, if we can find him.”

“He’s stupid,” Beth scoffed. “I don’t see why he has to put his own idealism before everyone else’s feelings.”

Noah slouched down into his throne and put his face in his hand.

“We can start searches, sire,” said Dagon, at his elbow. “You needn’t upset yourself. We can sort this out easily.”

“I supp—” Noah cut off and jerked his head up. “What’s…?”

They all heard it to as the silence fell: A long, drawn-out, excited, gradually getting louder, “_Broooooooooooooooooooooo—_”

The sound reached a crescendo as the throne room doors were flung open, and the disembodied spirit of Adam Young bore down on them, carried on a pair of speckled brown sparrow wings, flailing in excitement.

“Adam?!” Beth exclaimed.

Adam bounced around the room hooting at the top of his lungs. Mammon galloped in after him, winded. “Sire,” she panted. “I found him in Purgatory, in the spot where discorporated demons usually fall.”

“Bro!” Adam shouted. He accidentally rammed into one of the arches at the top of the room and rubbed his nose, then shouted again, “Bro, look! Look, I have wings! I have wings!”

“What?” said Noah, standing up, absolutely flabbergasted.

“He’s—” said Maltha. “He’s not a dead human soul, he’s a _discorporated_—”

Angel? Demon? It was hard to tell. His aura didn’t feel quite like either. His aura _did_ feel like it was surging with the powers he had denied himself for decades, though.

“Death told me so,” said Adam. “Death told me the lock I put on my powers wore off when my body died, because I had basically trapped myself in a mortal form. Because I’m still closer to angel or demon than human, so my body is just a body, and—”

His erratic, graceless flight finally ended with him crashing unceremoniously into the foot of Hell’s throne, tumbling over and over to roll to a stop at Mammon’s feet.

She looked down to stare into his eyes. “You still need a lot of practice.”

Adam leapt up, wings trembling and fluttering. “I never knew I had them, Noah, but it’s cool—cool—cool!”

“Aren’t you upset?” said Beth. “You were adamant about being a human even when it sucked, and now you’ve been told in no uncertain terms you aren’t one.”

Adam stopped. “Huh?”

“Would you like us to fashion you a new body so you can lock your powers again?” said Noah.

“No!” said Adam with horror, hugging his wings to himself.

“Well, you can’t go up to Earth without a corporation,” said Maltha. “Do you want to stay here in Hell and live like a dead human?”

“No!” cried Adam.

“Then what _do_ you want?” said Noah.

“I want you to look at my wings!” Adam cried. “Look at them! They’re so cool! Why aren’t you excited?!”

“They’re very nice, Adam!” said Noah as his brother fluttered his wings in his face. “But you’re essentially a discorporated demon now.”

“You don’t have to decide what to do right now,” said Maltha. “I could make you a new body if you like, and then once you’re back up on Earth you can think about what you’d like to do.”

Everyone in the throne room had to listen for the next few minutes as Adam prattled on and on about whales, spaceships, cowboys, America, UFOs, a dash of philosophy about human nature and nuclear power. Noah eventually managed to steer him into following Maltha up to the infernal incorporation department without making any commitments.

“All right,” said Maltha, sliding a pair of scissors through a roll of skin like wrapping paper. “This should be easier than making Hastur’s corporation; I remember what you looked like much better.”

“Do I, er, do I have to look the same?” said Adam, shifting from foot to foot.

Maltha’s hands froze on the sewing supplies. “I…suppose not. What would you prefer?”

“Can I have different anatomy?” said Adam excitedly.

“I supp—”

“Does it have to be human—”

“What are you th—”

“Could you give me wolf ears? And a tail?”

Maltha’s face creased with distaste.

******************

“DeviantArt.”

Aziraphale held the phone out at arm’s length, staring at it. Then he drew it back to his ear. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beth said it looked like DeviantArt,” crackled Maltha’s voice on the other end of the line.

Beth’s voice could be heard shouting manically in the background. “_He looks like a DeviantArt OC! Oh my fucking God!_”

“I managed to at least talk him out of the extra pairs of wings,” said Maltha. “But he was insistent on the retractable claws.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale. He rubbed his chin. “That’s….well, it’s something. Does he have access to his powers?”

“Yes,” said Maltha. “The function he had used to seal them off was tied to his physical body. I imagine any angel or demon could do much the same if they really wanted to and tried hard enough. I doubt any of us would have the patience to live out our entire lives that way.”

“I certainly wouldn’t.” Aziraphale miracled a cup of cocoa and sipped it. “And he’s...not upset he’s not living as a human anymore?”

The line crackled as Maltha took a contemplative breath. “I think he’ll settle down once the novelty has worn off.”

“Maybe so.”

“For now…” There was a bark in the background. “He seems…ah…to find not being human quite entertaining.”


End file.
